Sonnet 24

RIch fooles there be, whose base and filthy hart,
Lyes hatching still the goods wherein they flow:
Damning themselues to Tantalus his smart,
Welth breeding want, more rich, more wretched grow.
Yet to those fooles, heauen doth such wit impart,
As what their hands doe hold, their heads doe know.
And knowing loue, and louing lay apart,
As scattered things, farre from all dangers show.
But that rich foole, whom by blinde Fortunes lot,
The richest gem of loue and life enioyes,
And can with foule abuse such beauties blot:
Let him depriued of sweet, but vnfelt ioyes
Exilde for aye, from those high treasures which
He knowes not grow, in onely follie rich.